


The Shattered Clock

by AnnieVH



Series: Behind Closed Doors [14]
Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: Abusive Relationships, F/M, Gen, Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-11-21
Updated: 2014-11-21
Packaged: 2018-02-26 11:17:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,450
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2650088
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AnnieVH/pseuds/AnnieVH
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Neal is too old for this.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Shattered Clock

**Author's Note:**

> I've been wanting to fill this prompt (http://rumbelleprompts.tumblr.com/post/90082568530/rumple-milah-neal-belle-tw-domestic) for a while now, so I decided to do it as one-shots pertaining to the same verse (Behind Closed Doors), since I lack the attention span for multi-chapter. If anybody wants to send me ideas and prompts, I need them very much.
> 
> A companion piece for this picspam (http://annievh.tumblr.com/post/102166515522/behind-closed-doors-warnings-domestic-abuse).
> 
> Pairings for this verse: eventual Rumbelle and Swanfire.  
> Warnings for this verse: abusive relationship, implied non-con situations, child-abuse, violence, infidelity, very anti-Milah.
> 
> A HUGE THANKS to Maddie for betaing it so fast!

“So much for rehabilitated,” Neal murmured to himself, when he got out of the yellow bug just to hear his mother’s voice shouting.

“You’re  _always_ working, Malcolm,  _that’s_  the problem!”

First name. Bad sign. Whatever she was accusing him of doing this time, must have been serious.

Milah’s rant continued inside the house. “ _Don’t say that! I hate it when you say that!_ ”

Neal walked faster. If his mother saw him, she would surely retrieve to her corner and pretend to be the perfect housewife. And his father would probably insist that was only her “bad temper”, that she was really behaving much better nowadays. That she was ready to be a grandmother.

 _No, she’s not_ , he thought.  _She’s not going to meet Henry with that attitude._

Neal put the key in the hole and the next thing he knew his father was shouting, “ _NoMilahwait_!” and something was thrown in his direction. Thankfully, it crashed on the wood a fraction of a second before he could open the door.

Inside the house, the shouting stopped.

On the front porch, Neal stopped, processing what had just happened.

 _Oh_ , he thought, blood starting to boil.  _Oh, she – did – NOT_!

He pushed the door open so aggressively that the little pieces on the floor scattered away.

Milah’s breath got caught in her throat.

His father had both hands covering his mouth and wide eyes full of panic.

“What was that?” Neal asked, and he was surprised at how steady his voice sounded, because his thoughts were in a furious rush and blood was pumping loudly in his ears.

“I am so,  _so_ sorry Neal,” Milah said, finding her voice. His father had not moved. “I did not know you were-”

“I meant what was  _that._ ” He pointed a finger at the mess on the floor. Tiny golden springs, nails and gears lost among pieces of wood (from the door or from whatever his mother had used as an assault weapon, Neal couldn’t be sure).

Milah hesitated, then said, “It was nothing, honey. I’m sorry I-”

“ _Now_  it is nothing because you threw it at me.”

“I didn’t mean to hit you-”

“I know, you were aiming at  _his head_.”

He shouted the last two words and that shook his father out of his trance. He stepped between the two of them. “It’s fine, Bae. She wasn’t trying to-”

“Oh, was she just breaking it then?” Neal barked, taking a step toward Milah.

“It’s just an old clock,” Rumple insisted, placing a hand on his chest to keep him away from his mother, because Milah hadn’t moved from her spot.

“It’s  _your_  old clock and she shouldn’t  _throw it against a wall_!”

Milah’s eyes watered and she murmured, “I’m sorry-”

“You are  _not_  sorry!” he shouted back, pointing a finger at her. “Stop saying you are because you are  _never_  sorry!”

Neal was getting dangerously close now and his father pushed him back, calling, “Bae! Bae! No, lets go outside! I want to go outside!”

Milah was still watching him with wet eyes. Heartbroken eyes. As if him daring to launch at her was somehow unfair and she was being the victim of a terrible injustice.

His father, balancing himself without his cane and trying to fight his much taller, much larger son, looked pleadingly at him. If he was afraid that Neal might hurt his beloved wife, or that Neal might get in trouble for it, he couldn’t say. Maybe he was just terrified of the consequences of having their son take his side of the fight. Milah never liked to be confronted about the way she treated his Papa.

But Neal wasn’t a child anymore. He was twenty years old, out of their house, and very,  _very_  pissed off. If his father stepped to the side, he would throw his mother on the ground and make her put that clock back together until it was ticking again.

His father must have known that Neal was not just throwing empty threats at her this time, because he refused to move.

“No, Bae, please, think of Henry!” Rumple pleaded, voice full of panic. “You don’t want to hurt his grandmother!”

Neal stopped struggling.

“Yes, please, lets go outside,” his father insisted. “Please, just to get some air.”

But Neal was far from done. In a cold voice, he said, “You’re not getting anywhere near my son.”

Father closed his eyes, bracing himself for the explosion that was bound to happen.

It didn’t take long.

“What are you talking about?” Milah asked, taking a step forward, but not in the menacing way Neal knew she was capable of. “I’m his grandmother. I have the right to meet him.”

“No, you have no rights!” he shouted back, and Rumple got ready to push him back again, but his son did not move. “You are nothing to me! You’re never meeting Henry! And if I ever hear that you pulled a stunt like this again, I don’t care if he’s not pressing charges, I’ll make sure you pay for it!”

His father screamed, “ _Bae, please_!” To get his attention. “Please! Just-Just go outside with me. I need some air.”

Neal stopped screaming, his throat hoarse and throbbing, and took a step back. The relief on Rumple’s face was evident.

“Yes,” he breathed. “Come, son, just for a little while.”

Milah watched as Rumple took their son’s arm and led him outside. Neal didn’t take his eyes away from her for a second. If she made a sudden movement to grab something or launch at them, he’d push his father out of the way and, god help him, he wouldn’t hold back for his benefit.

But Milah stayed where she was and, much to his disappointment, the door closed behind him and they were alone in the front porch.

Rumple loosened the knot of his tie and limped to the baluster to get some support.

“Did she take your cane too?” Neal asked, more aggressively than planned. An accusation, not a concern.

Rumple didn’t look at him and Neal decided that, before he started taking his anger out on his father, he needed to calm down. The last thing the old man needed was to deal with more hostility. He walked down the front steps and into the grass. After pacing for a few minutes, he felt his heart rate go back to normal.

“Are you better now, son?” Rumple asked, looking down at him from the porch.

Neal didn’t answer. Instead, he barked out another question, “Did you lie to me?”

“What?” Rumple said, taken aback.

“When I asked you if you thought she was ready to meet my son? Did you lie to me?”

His father looked hurt by that remark. “Bae, I  _never_  lie to you.”

 _You lie plenty to yourself_.

Neal didn’t say a word.

“We were doing fine until tonight,” he explained. “And then she saw me working on the clock and, I don’t know, she snapped.”

“Yes, I heard, the same old crap,” Neal said, pacing again. “You work too much, you don’t give her enough attention, you love your trinkets more than you love her. Am I missing something?”

“Bae-” he tried, but his son went on.

“I particularly enjoy the part where she breaks your things. Is she still throwing them at you, or is this her new M.O. now? Is this what you meant by progress?”

He shook his head, sorrowful. “No, Bae, of course not.”

“Because if it is, I’m not impressed. And a little pissed at you.”

“I wouldn’t let her hurt your son.”

“You had no problem when it was me.”

Neal realized what he had said only after the words had already left his mouth and done all the harm they could on his father. Whatever panic there was left from the fight vanished from his eyes and he stared at his son in disbelief. But then the disbelief dissolved into sadness, because he knew _exactly_  what Neal meant by that.

He took a deep breath. His father was not the person Neal was angry at, nor did the old man deserve to be yelled at by another person. Specially his son.

“I’m sorry,” Neal said, finally managing to get his voice down. “I didn’t mean that.”

“No. I get it,” Rumple answered, in his quiet voice. “I haven’t always done the best job at protecting you.”

Neal couldn’t remember a time where his father’s voice wasn’t filled with guilt. His mother had that effect on him, twisting words to make him believe everything was his fault and that, if he had done things differently, he wouldn’t be screamed at nearly as much. But now he looked like Bae had just added another stone to the weight that was already upon his shoulders – unexpected weight, but that he deserved, no doubt about it.

Neal climbed up the stairs again and went to his side. His father didn’t want to look at him, but Neal talked anyway, “How has she been?”

Despite the turmoil, Rumple didn’t hesitate. “She was doing so well.”

“Well as in treating you decently, or well as in screaming only on special occasions? Because my conditions were that she would only meet Henry when she’s in her best behavior, and I’m not seeing that.”

“You’ve seen her, Bae. You know she was getting better.”

He thought back the past few months. Every time he had come to spend the weekend, his mother had been polite and sweet, and hardly ever snapped at his father. And even when she did, she quickly apologized after the offense. It was such a perfect act of discipline that Neal wasn’t buying it. Milah was more than capable of behaving like a descent human being. She had done so for his benefit for fourteen years, only letting him see glimpses of what lied behind her mask. She just chose  _not to_ _be one_  wherever her husband was concerned.

At the end of each visit, she’d eagerly ask about her grandchild, only to hear Neal say she wasn’t ready yet. To her credit, she never pushed. And she never went back to New York uninvited.

It had taken him over a year to make him consider granting her the benefit of the doubt.

And now this.

“That was not an answer to my question,” Neal said.

After a moment, his father looked up to meet his eye. “Whatever problem we might have, you know she wouldn’t hurt Henry.”

Neal thought that his argument could be easily contested. Instead, decided to be blunt. “I’m not afraid she might hurt him. I don’t want my son to meet her because she’s a monster who hurts his grandfather on a regular basis.”

Rumple looked down again and didn’t reply.

He eyed his father’s ankle.

“You know, if I were walking around every day with a reminder of the way she treats me, I wouldn’t be trying nearly as hard to keep my marriage together.”

Rumple remained quiet.

Neal saw a rare opportunity and took it. “You know this thing you have is not healthy.”

To his surprise, his father replied, “I know.”

“And that, if this were me and Emma, you would drag me out of the house before there was a second time.”

His father didn’t answer for a moment. Then, “You’d still go back to her. No matter what I said.”

Neal wanted to rebuff that, but he couldn’t.

Instead, he said, “You know, no matter how far back I look, I cannot remember one moment when mom was good to you.”

Rumple nodded. “She is good to me. More than you’d think. More than I deserve. There were many moments where she could have walked away from me and she didn’t. Before all this.” He raised his eyes to the ceiling, indicating the house and a house of luxury that they didn’t always have. “Before things got easy. Through my worst moments, she stuck with me. And through her worse moments, I have to do the same.”

“Right. Marriage.”

Rumple didn’t seem affected by his disdain, even though he acknowledged it with a nod. “Yes. Marriage.”

Neal gave him a look Rumple knew too well. The look of holding back unpleasant truths. He didn’t have to guess very hard. “You think she’s only with me because of my money.”

“I have no  _idea_  why she’s with you,” Neal said, turning around to face the house. “I  _wish_  it was just your money, because then she’d divorce you for half your assets and you’d be safe.  _This_ , this  _thing_  you have, I can’t explain.”

Rumple observed his son for a moment, waiting for him to go on, but he didn’t. So he turned around as well. Held his hand. Rested his cheek on his shoulder. Gave his boy a chance to pull away and make it clear that the fight was far from over.

Neal stood still and allowed him the comfort of his silence.

He said, “I want you to be happy.”

Rumple answered, “I’m not  _un_ happy.”

Neal sighed. “I wish you’d meet someone who’s nice to you. Then you’d see the difference.”

His father probably didn’t know how to react to that, because he thought about it for a very long time. Then decided for a half-jest. “Who would want an old man like me?”

Neal gave him a kiss on the temple. “You’re my old man. I want you in one piece.”

His father smiled and kissed his cheek before letting go of his hand and limping towards the door. Milah had probably thrown his cane away from his grasp.

 _Lord, I hope she’s not locking it away anymore_ …

Out loud, he said, “I don’t think I’ll come in.”

Rumple looked back, frowning. “You can’t drive back tonight. It’s late.”

“I’ll stay at Graham’s. I just can’t deal with her.”

He looked ready to debate this, but then just sighed. “Alright. It’s your decision.”

Neal gave him a hug. “If she tries anything like this again-”

“She won’t.”

“Just come and stay with us. Just until she calms down.”

Rumple decided a lie would be easier. “I will.”

Neal clang to him a moment too long, fighting the feeling that he should just pick him up and drag him away. Whatever vows of devotion he had made to his mother meant nothing in the face of the danger he would surely face if Neal ever let him go back into that house.

But, eventually, he had to let his father go, and when the front door closed behind him, Neal caught himself wondering in what state he would find his father the next day.

**Author's Note:**

> A list of all one-shots in verse chronological order can be found here: http://annievh.tumblr.com/post/102166515522/behind-closed-doors-warnings-domestic-abuse


End file.
